


things to do on a meteor when youre bored

by MadameHardy



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Cogitation, Eavesdropping, M/M, Masturbation, Pesterlog(s) (Homestuck), Satisfaction, stream-of-consciousness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 19:28:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26074177
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadameHardy/pseuds/MadameHardy
Summary: Dave is fed up with conversation, fed up with company, fed up with -- well.   Too many people, too much.He's not even talking to Karkat.  Who is next door.  Doing something.  Something that sounds different.
Relationships: Dave Strider/Karkat Vantas
Comments: 4
Kudos: 39
Collections: Drone Season 2020





	things to do on a meteor when youre bored

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BagtheBagisnotaBag](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BagtheBagisnotaBag/gifts).



You slide into your room like the world's nastiest bean fart. Abandon all hope ye who inhale here, ribbons of reeks radiating on all sides, streaming into space behind the speeding rock, asphyxiating the space whales.

Rose has to make everything into a goddamn federal case. Got no federal to federate. Can Town stands alone and proud, no need for borders, allies, trading partners. If you wanted Rose to stab a serving spoon into your innermost goo, you'd book an appointment in her nonexistent office. Your thoughts are lonely and proud and you like them that way. No foxtrots in the Fortress of Solitude.

Fuck this, is what you're saying. You flick open a pesterlog. 

\-- turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT] at 16:13 --  
[TG]: keep outta my shit and ill wont mention yours slaloming down the marianas trench of booze   
[TG]: stay in your fucking lane which would be sucking face with kanaya and making stupid prophecies about heroes which i have no intention  


Hell the fuck no. 

You punch a pillow. This does absolutely nothing. So much for psychological advice everywhere, huh Rose. Catharsis _this_. You could whack off, but hatewhacking is about as satisfying as tongue-kissing a stuffed marmoset. Marmosets have it hard, though, no bright asses to say look at me girl marmosets i am choice monkey-meat. Marmosets wish they were baboons. Who doesn't? Blaze that ass loud and proud.

You punch the big bold DELETE key. Dignity saved by a speeding digit. Anger ventilated in a completely healthy and harmless fashion, yup yup. No more pillows need punching. You're fine. Calm. Icier than Madonna's heart.

Fuck it. Look, Rose, healthy distractions.

[LISTLOG]  
DAVE: things to do on a meteor when youre bored  
DAVE: 1 numero unissimo with a bullet the size of your moms asshole hassle karkat  
DAVE: 1a dick pics  
DAVE: 1b sick fires rhyme quadrant with detergent fire ant dessert pervert   
DAVE: return of 1a lets be real here drawings of dick pics  
DAVE: no actual dick pics  
DAVE: for one thing i have no idea if hed recognize a dick  
DAVE: who knows what hes packing  
DAVE: maybe a bag of waving french fries  
DAVE: god i miss french fries  
DAVE: roses last attempt came out tasting like ass  
DAVE: pickle flavored ass for some reason   
DAVE: 2 wonder what john and jade are doing  
DAVE: 2a remember to tell john hilarious truth about buckets  
DAVE: son of 2a dont tell john hilarious truth about buckets then mention cleaning around karkat  
DAVE: 2b watch karkat explode  
DAVE: 1a meets 2b truly the best thing to do on this or any other meteor no other applicants need apply office shut lights out he hired jolene that high school girl he has a creepy thing for two days ago   


Have the mighty tundras of Stridonia been re-frosted by the Arctic spatula of the mighty numbered list? Magic Eight Ball says TRY AGAIN LATER.

DAVE: 3 if i were steve mcqueen i could throw a ball in the air and catch it steve mcqueen was cool sadly no ball and no glove and frankly not a lot of air although admittedly enough for ball tossing purposes  
  
DAVE: also i hate balls  
DAVE: gloves especially fingerless what an asshole fashion choice  


Screw that thought. You're already screwed. You're screwed into a meteor, sound isolation, sensory deprivation, emptiness pervasion, missing inform -- 

Weird noise from next door. Sort of ... a click maybe? 

DAVE: 4 if terezi werent sauced off her face draw stuff  
DAVE: 5 if rose werent sauced off her face   
DAVE: no number seeing a pattern here

Or a snap. Like a potato chip.

You keep a mental captchalogue of next-door Karkat sounds, thanks to the air vent you share. Thumps: stuff hitting the wall. Shout: you've launched a particularly good cannon-load of bullshit into pesterquest (note to self: sample). Slosh: the recuperacoon when he wakes up screaming. You don't judge. 

Clicksnaps are new to the mix. 

Clicksnap clicksnap

clicksnap. Speeding up a bit. Clicksnap squelch.

Squelch? 

Silence. And then

Clicksnap clicksnap clicksnap squelch gasp squelch.

Light dawns. He's salting the old french fries. Tugging the hot dog. Double-fisting the Big Gulp. Inches/feet/whatever away Karkat is making the beast with one back and one bigass fuck of a slipped disc. Doing a thorough job. No stone unturned, no click unsnapped, no gasp unbreathed. Respect the mission. Voyage in peace, Karkat, spray those never-to-hatch alien babies all over the ceiling. 

Your own crotch rocket is making it known it's been way too long since liftoff. Shut up, crotch rocket, we're listening purely for scientific reasons. There will be a paper. Published in the Journal of Alien Jerkoff noises, editor -- the only editor within lightyears is Rose, fuck that.

The moans are getting louder, and the clicks are getting quicker, and fuck this, you're herding your pony into the fist corral at the Five-Finger Ranch. Time to manhandle the man handle. You yank down the immortality pants and reach for your oldest friend in the world. Hello hardon, how ya been?

There's a pause. Don't let me down, Karkat, aural stimulation is my thing. You thumb your cockhead just to keep it interested. Run one hand down the shaft. Up a bit. Come on, Karkat, do your --

Another click. Another. Slower. You jerk it a bit, timing yourself just a bit off, he ticks, you and-tocktock, he gasps, you grab harder, he slows down, you do, too. He's edging you and he'll never even know it. Fucking hot.

Not many clicks now, more smooth sliding sounds, you wonder what his package looks like, what it's sliding with, what it's clicking with, what it would feel -- he's he's clicking you're jerking he's moaning you're biting your lip it's too much it's not enough more damn you more vantas harder faster and he gasps STRI

and you're gone. Light blazing behind your eyes, nerves shorting out, silence

Well. You needed that. It was good. And fast. If somebody else had been involved you'd be embarrassed as fuck. Fortunately it's just you. And the pony. And the sound of Karkat's voice and he will never ever ever ever know.

Magic Eightball says HELL YEAH.


End file.
